


Silk and Steel

by Leni Jess (Leni_Jess)



Series: Young Malfoys [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni_Jess/pseuds/Leni%20Jess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius and Narcissa are expected to get engaged. That doesn't mean there are no surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk and Steel

Lucius was supposed to be taking the youngest Black girl to the Ministry reception, and he would, he would, but he wasn't going to worry about it yet. He hardly had to worry about what to wear to that, after all. Best dress robes, and slim-fitting trousers under them, in case things became more active than he expected. He didn't want to be exposed in his underwear. The house-elf valet had well-trained taste, and could match his shirts and cravats to his temper with almost unfailing accuracy.

Right now… he would choose the underwear.

He had already bathed, and now set aside his dressing-robe. Do this properly. Enjoy this choosing, if not the rest of the night and the choosing he was expected to do then.

He opened the magic-sealed drawer and ran a hand gently through its contents, stirring the silks and satins and mist-fine linens. It didn't matter if he disordered them; the drawer would sort them neatly once he closed it.

He lifted out a camisole, see-through linen, as fine as chiffon, of a pink so pale it was almost white. It had lacy straps threaded with silk ribbon, and the top was delicately ornamented with handmade Valenciennes lace, itself an heirloom. He liked its combination of austerity and refined sensuality.

For visual neatness he pulled on a close-fitting pair of flesh-coloured silk panties. The French knickers were good, too; if trousers were not required his companion could touch him with very little disturbance to his clothing; but for choosing other items to wear something unobtrusive suited him best, he had found. It prevented him from becoming distracted by the other possibilities of his own body.

Lucius shook back his hair then slowly pulled the camisole over his head, setting it to rights without looking at himself in the mirror. Once he had smoothed it down – then done it again, with both hands, because it felt so delicious against his flesh – he did look.

Oh yes. So pretty against his fair skin. His pink nipples peeped above the lace, obscured and revealed by the slightest of movements. He lifted his arms slowly, displaying the nearly white floss of hair in his armpits, and combed his fingers through each in turn, rotating his shoulders slightly. How glad he was that his body hair was so fine. No coarse curls, no vulgar bushes, such as Valenti Zabini had, however well-made the body they did not adorn. He laced his fingers together above his head, letting it drop back, and turned, watching himself in that mirror and in the one set behind him, seeing the reflections doubling and redoubling.

That would be very nice. It would feel good. He knew from experience that with the weight of a shirt and his robes over the camisole the lace at the top of its bodice would scratch gently at his nipples all evening.

However, if he took his robes off, the shape of the lace would be visible through his silk shirt. Not tonight, perhaps. He didn't expect to be able to bed the girl tonight, even if he had to propose. He supposed he would do that, then the other as soon as possible. He might as well find out how much training she would need.

Logic said he should wear something fine, silky, unobtrusive. Tactually pleasing, but not visible to the eye; maybe not perceptible to the fingers, either.

Reluctantly he removed the camisole and laid it aside. Once he had his fiancée trained he could wear it.

For tonight – something white or almost white, something silky, with no sewn-on ornamentation to attract notice.

Regretfully he dropped the cream satin teddy. The form would be appropriate, as he did not expect to undress tonight. He would not wear a teddy if he was likely to be partially disrobing. It was too difficult to get it right on his body again once its crotch was unfastened. While that was not a problem, the piping that ornamented the teddy asymmetrically, drawing attention to one nipple and to his navel and, so discreetly, to his cock, could easily be felt through a shirt.  
[Rethink: Regretfully he dropped the cream satin teddy. He did not wear a teddy if he was likely to be partially disrobing; it was too difficult to get it right on his body again once its crotch was unfastened. He did not expect to undress tonight, but the piping that ornamented the teddy asymmetrically, drawing attention to one nipple and to his navel and, so discreetly, to his cock, could easily be felt through a shirt.]  
Ah. The Thai silk, the pale grey of early morning fog. Almost a corset, closely fitted, though not boned, taking advantage of the strength of the fabric to constrain his body. It covered him from his nipples to his narrow hips, dipping in a vee over the centre of his chest and ending in a decidedly suggestive vee of reinforced silk above his genitals in front. At the back it was straight across the top and sat above the hard flat buttocks in a gentle curve.

It was delightful to wear. The slight coarseness in the weave teased his skin, and if he was utterly bored with everything else, he could contentedly absorb the sensations it imparted. He almost always came home with a nearly unbearable erection after a night of wearing that. The trouble it took to get out of it without damaging it was the final incitement to an overwhelming release.

That decided, he picked out the matching panties, like all of them carefully adapted to the male form. This pair were fairly loose, to cope with the expected arousal, and lined with softer silk, to ensure his cock was teased, but not too harshly stimulated.

Lucius surveyed himself in his chosen underwear. Valenti liked to see him in this, but Lucius never let him touch his body when he wore it; he doubted the garment could withstand Valenti's enthusiasm. Mirrina, now, she liked to strip him slowly, and to do it using her hands rather than her wand, teasing him with light touches as she took her time over loosening the laces at the back.

A pity he couldn't marry Mirrina. As well as being an excellent bed-partner she was smart, and not as beautiful as he, though her handsomeness complemented his looks very well. She was also Valenti's sister, and his father had warned him years ago they were too closely related for such a marriage to be a good idea. He and Mirrina had that by heart long before they left school, so they had trained each other with enjoyment but without expectations.

He had to marry the Black girl. It was as good as arranged. His proposal was the last formality.

Not a lot of money there either, with her male cousins the direct heirs of what was left of the Black resources after turning their old city house into a fortress, but the breeding was good. Or so it seemed, despite the wildness of both sons.

His father pointed out that was no bad thing. Sirius was essentially disinherited already, and Lucius was personally aware of the extremely shaky ground Regulus stood on with their mutual lord.

The family money might yet come to the three sisters, or at least to two of them; Andromeda had disinherited herself with her disgraceful marriage. The oldest girl was married already, and Lucius wondered idly if Narcissa expected to wear the trousers in their marriage as Bellatrix undoubtedly did with Dolph. Ha. She'd be lucky.

Narcissa was supernally beautiful, a perfect match for himself in looks, and he supposed he could live with that. They would have wonderful children. Her manners were excellent, her conversation entertaining without attracting unsuitable attention, her social tact impeccable. Not bad for nineteen. Though she was a little quiet for his taste he preferred her restraint to Bellatrix and her aggression. She had better be good in bed, or capable of learning. He would not tolerate a ninny there any more than he would at the breakfast table.

He would have to think carefully what to wear when he did bed her. He needed to keep her respect. He paused for a moment to wonder if she did respect him. Apart from her quietness there was no sign of it. With Bellatrix as an example, she might expect equality, or more. Generously he decided he would allow her to earn it. They were in this for the long haul, his father and the marriage contract made plain. Best to be on good terms. The first time he should do nothing to distract her from the sex itself, especially if it was indeed her first time.

Was she a virgin? Lucius wondered if he cared. It would be amusing to teach her everything, to train her specifically to his tastes, to ensure she had no wishes but those he led her to expect to have. There might also be long boring stretches, when he would have to be patient if it killed him. On the whole, preferable if she were virgin; no bad habits to train out of her. Though he would not object if she had experimented already. She knew what discretion was, if she had. Once they were married, her fidelity would be essential, and his discretion as well as hers absolutely necessary.

Lucius ran his hands down the rough silk one last time then turned aside from the mirrors and the satisfying pictures there. They knew better than to comment uninvited.

* * * *

The reception was not boring, precisely, but not the highlight of the month, or the week. His companion was well-behaved, and amusing, once she realised he needed to be entertained, which did not take long. Lucius took care to be amusing, and considerate, in return.

They strolled, her hand on his crooked forearm, through the brilliantly lit rooms, over the thick carpets (which looked suspiciously like de-activated flying carpets), talking to their wide acquaintance, pausing to listen to the small chamber orchestra playing unexceptionable music, eating the occasional canapé. She liked seafood and foreign mushrooms, and avoided anything with cloying sauce. She liked champagne, but made her glass last. That was good. Lucius was being as careful. Tonight had to be done sober.

After three hours they could make their farewells; each had done duty for their fathers in attending this.

Lucius murmured as they moved slowly down the staircase to the foyer, "Where would you like to go, Narcissa?"

"You don't have anything planned?"

"I have several possibilities, but thought you might like to make a choice."

She smiled up at him. "What are your possibilities, Lucius?"

"We could go dancing at the Farrens' ball, or you might prefer the new nightclub off Festive Alley. The band is excellent, the standards of behaviour high."

Her smile became positively enchanting. "I may have had enough of high standards of behaviour for tonight, Lucius. Isn't there something _not_ boring?"

Well. She was bold, or maybe brave, and possibly indicating her acceptance of him as well as the marriage.

He knew how enticing his own smile could be.

"If you don't want to dance – and after walking about for several hours it might be tiresome – would you like to ride? We could take brooms – Apparate to the country and ride about in the moonlight. Play in the clouds in the Welsh mountains, if you wouldn't find that a little too exciting. Or I could borrow a hippogriff." He gave her his smile. "You might be able to ride a unicorn, but I can't, of course."

"The hippogriff, if you're accustomed to riding them," she said decidedly. "I never have; it would be interesting. In the mountains," she added.

He paused for a moment to imagine having her seated before him, her hair whipped loose by the wind of their flying, the skirts of her full evening robes moulding themselves against both their bodies, that slim back against his chest, his hands on her waist and slipping up to those pretty breasts the robes draped but did not conceal. A surprisingly pleasing idea.

She had not responded to his unicorn gambit. Policy, privacy, tact – he would find out eventually.

He drew her closer against his side, and when they came to the Apparition alcove – Flooing in their current attire was not to be thought of – pulled her against his body without apology. She accepted without awkwardness or complaint; one of the consequences of agreeing to Apparate to a destination only one person knew.

His clothing and hers made it a fairly chaste embrace, but he had a good imagination and, from the fluttering of her eyelashes, so had she. He delayed activating the spell to enjoy the moment, to see the faint colour rising in her cheeks, waiting until her grey eyes lifted to his with a question in them.

Why not do it now?

"Will you marry me, Narcissa? I would be pleased to have you to wife."

She hardly hesitated, though there was no unseemly eagerness in her reply.

"Yes, Lucius, I will. Thank you. I should be proud to be your wife."

"You honour me."

There. They had both done the expected, painlessly.

He moved back enough to fetch the small envelope from his breast pocket. He took her hand, slipped the ring onto her fourth finger, and turned her hand over to kiss her palm, deliberately lingering, before allowing her to see what she would be wearing for the rest of her life. He heard her soft gasp, and swallowed it before it fully left her lips, opening his mouth on hers, using his tongue. No virgin's manners now; if she did not know kissing, she could start learning.

One of his hands slipped down her back and pressed her hips into his. She allowed it, and her tongue mimicked his, carefully at first, then with more confidence. Ignorant, then, but willing, and not afraid. Excellent.

When his mouth released hers he ran his tongue delicately over her lips, and pressed a final kiss on her forehead. His hands held her almost as close as before, and hers were wound in his hair. Lucky it would shake back into order easily.

He smiled again. "Perhaps we should move on before we inconvenience another traveller."

"Mmm."

Her right hand slipped to his shoulder; she brought her left hand down and between them, turning it to inspect her new ring. A Malfoy heirloom, of course, and equally of course magically sizing itself to her finger. Not the pink diamond; he could never put that on a woman's hand. He did not believe in love, even if some of his ancestors had done so.

This was a ruby, blazing arrogantly against her pale skin. He thought, looking down at her, that its arrogance and boldness became her. There was much more to her than showed to the casual observer of her physical and social perfection, if she would ride a hippogriff at night with a man she had never been alone with in her life. A man she had just engaged herself to.

"Would you prefer me to take you home?"

A test, though she would not know it. She had her prey now, or at least her partner. She could go home to her family and share her triumph. Show off that ring that was as good as a contract.

She chose to share herself with him.

"Oh no. It should be lovely. Where's your hippogriff?"

"A neighbour of ours has one; I made arrangements with him, in case you felt like doing this. We won't be able to get as far as mountains, I'm sorry."

"Just flying will be exciting. I'll be able to see your home county."

A very tactful woman.

* * * *

Away from all the Muggle cities disfiguring their country, the moon was bright, the clouds high and scattered, moving fast. It might be quite exciting, riding a hippogriff, with that much wind, though they were too far from the mountains to fly there tonight. He thought, now, even that would not discompose her.

Narcissa exchanged effortless small talk with the Malfoys' neighbour while a groom fetched the hippogriff. It was very well trained, but it had all the pride of its nature still. It knew Lucius and accepted his polite bow. Narcissa curtsied to it, bending her head, showing off, whether she knew it or not, the smooth line of her nape below the pinned up coils of silvery blonde hair. Lucius suppressed the impulse to take hold of her and bite that soft skin. Later. Much, much later, probably. Eden – named for a Muggle politician, Lucius knew, not their illusory starting place – accepted her easily.

Lucius mounted first, and Narcissa did not need his friend's assistance to mount before him. She put her daintily slippered foot on his town shoe, thrust forward for her, and sprang. While he was leaning sideways to catch and lift her, it was still a respectably athletic move, especially in evening robes. She elected to ride astride like a man, rather than pressed awkwardly sideways against him. Sensible of her, and certainly safer as well as more comfortable for a long ride. Her hands flicked her skirts into elegant order, so that the pale rose folds lay over the black of his robes. A pleasing effect.

This ride might ruin their clothing; it would be interesting to see how she reacted to that. He suspected a ruined set of evening robes was not a small thing to the youngest Black girl, but one would never know it. Once she was his wife she need never concern herself with such matters again. A small warmth at his own generosity built in his chest, to match the warmth in his loins that her nearness seemed to incite.

This was going to be a pleasant ride.

Eden was quite large, and had no trouble with their combined weight. When the hippogriff took off Lucius clung to her and the saddle, set forward of the great wings, with all the strength of his arms and legs. That violent motion would be disconcerting. Once the initial climb into free air was accomplished Lucius gripped Narcissa firmly to ensure that the up and down motion of Eden's flight did not make her feel insecure. Or so he told himself. She pressed back against him. He behaved himself, and directed her attention to landmarks. She needed to get to know Wiltshire.

He urged Eden north-west across Salisbury Plain to the great Ridgeway, and had him fly along much of it, so Narcissa could appreciate the rolling downlands, knowing the Disillusionment Charm on the hippogriff would ensure the Muggle soldiers who infested the place would not recognise them for what they were. Then he turned Eden back, in the direction of the great henge. At this hour there would be no Muggles near the henge, or the other at Amesbury. He could show her the best.

She was fascinated by the different perspective on the ring of stones, leaning fearlessly sideways, trusting him, but also gripping the prominent saddle horn.

"Would you like to go down? Into the henge?"

"Could we? It's safe?"

"They've all taken themselves off for the night," he assured her.

So Eden lighted down on the turf. These days, fenced in as it was, there was none of the litter which his father told him had once disfigured the place. If one ignored the fence, and the buildings at a distance, it was like being back in the dawn of time, when wizards and witches had been free to use this place for its proper purpose, for great ceremonies and celebrations, private as well as public ones.

She walked around with him, ignoring the dampness on her flimsy shoes, as he did his own, though she lifted her skirts slightly. They took their time, giving the place, and the full moon, their due respect.

He led her at last to the central altar. Unaffectedly she dipped a curtsy; half-ashamed at his casual attitude, he bowed. Then, however, he lifted her up onto it, and leaped easily up beside her.

She smiled at him.

"No sacrifice."

"No, none," she agreed, and leaned into him.

She was slight, and probably getting cold; he could warm her. Lucius was warm enough. Indeed, in this most free time he had ever had with her, he was becoming warm enough to reconsider his decision not to bed her yet. He was still enjoying the feel of the Thai silk against his skin, but he thought he would not have needed it after all, this evening, once they were alone together. She was very beautiful, but except for his need to have the best he did not care particularly about that. He was delighted with her confidence, her boldness, and with the certainty that it was based on a knowledge of herself, not on ignorance.

He began to caress her, still not committed to having her, but wanting to explore; wanting to allow her to explore.

By now he had her breasts in his hands and cupped, squeezed, while his thumbs flicked her nipples. The first time he did that she flinched, but then she pressed herself into his hands. How enjoyable to have a virgin who was not afraid.

She ducked her face into his neck, and for a moment he was disappointed – shy? – but then he felt her lips moving against his skin.

"Yes," he said, his voice huskier than he would have expected.

Her hands came up. They did not go to his cock, which would have welcomed them, but they went to his cravat, loosening it, opening his collar, opening his robes, opening his shirt. And all the while her lips and her tongue moved on his neck, on his shoulder, until she was able to slide down a little and start kissing his chest.

She came to the silk barrier above his nipples and stopped. Then her fingers slid down from his shoulders, where they had been gripping hard, to explore. Then she lifted her head to look.

Lucius waited, curious to see her response, and somewhat more apprehensive than it was proper to be.

She murmured something unintelligible, and ran her fingers along the top edge of the garment, then did it again, sliding them under it, so that she brushed his nipples in passing. Quite involuntarily he gasped. That touch had gone straight to his cock, which he had thought already quite hard enough.

"Do that again, and linger," he whispered.

So she did, exploring openly now.

After a little while she peeled his shirt back further, and unfastened his trousers. Her interest seemed to be in what he was wearing rather than in the body beneath it, but he could wait a while. It was all new; there was no need to rush her.

Soon enough she was tracing the lower edge. Her fingers came so close, oh Merlin, he felt like a schoolboy again. How could a curious, ignorant virgin, who was his property, or near enough, affect him like this?

When she spoke he shuddered at what she asked. "Do you want to take this off, or keep it on?"

"Take it off, if I may take your clothes off too."

Then he thought, 'No, I can't. It's cold. The stone's hard, the ground will be wet as well as hard. It's her first time, you fool! You want her to like this, not be so uncomfortable she doesn’t care to do it again.'

She didn't seem to be thinking along those lines. Those warm soft hands left him and went to the fastenings of her own robes.

Maybe that was her ignorance coming to the fore at last. But there was a way round this.

Lucius twisted, then lay back on the altar. His hands urged her to straddle his hips.

Her upper body was naked now, though his was not.

"I can't unfasten the laces if you're lying down," she objected.

"Use your wand," he ordered. To the Pit with being teased further. For once he had no interest in the process of being undressed, of revealing his body slowly, stripping away its lovely ornaments to display its intrinsic beauty for his lover.

She burrowed into the robes billowing over his thighs and used the command most wizard children learned to use for simple amusement long before they learned to use it for pleasure.

The laces of his silken cover unravelled themselves and the garment itself slid aside.

She promptly bent and kissed one nipple.

"Use your teeth," he demanded.

She nibbled delicately, cautiously, and he sighed, before saying, "Just a little more firmly."

Her own somewhat larger nipples were pebbled, with the cold, or with excitement; he wanted to get them in his mouth.

He managed to get at his own wand; practice ensured he knew where it was, and how to get it quickly, at all times. A warming charm, that was what she would need, soon if not already. For that matter, it would help him, when the chill of the stone penetrated the robes he was lying on.

Having turned his mind to practical matters he pushed her gently up and concentrated on stripping her completely. He took the opportunity to show her the benefits of being naked under his hands. When he was convinced her shudders were not caused by the cold he got her back across his thighs.

He didn't want to wait, and she seemed ready; strike now to please them both. Strike fire from her.

He warned her quickly, sure now she would not back away. "This will hurt."

"Bella told me," she answered, breathlessly. "Do it now, Lucius. Get it done, so we can have all the good things."

How interesting to discover that knowing she was his, signed with their hands, sealed with his ring, and about to be delivered, increased his pleasure in anticipating having her, rather than lessening it, as he had expected. He had thought there would be no challenge. This girl, this woman, would challenge the sphinx. Under the soft silks, soft voice, soft manners, there was a core of steel. His secret treasure that no one else would ever know.

He gripped her hips firmly and drew her down. Not hard and fast, hurting, but slow, steady, and by her gasps and bitten lips, hurtfully still. She made no protest, did not try to pull back.

Instead she asked, voice trembling only a little, "Would it help if I pushed?"

"No! No, don't do that, Narcissa. Bear it a little longer like this."

He was fully sheathed in her at last, and longed to buck hard up into her, to take what he needed, the release all the stimuli of the evening urged him to have now, now, now. Instead he paused, let her rest, let her absorb the feel, before he moved, carefully as he had never done. Partly for policy, yes; Lucius seldom forgot in heat the decisions taken coolly; but partly because he wanted to please her. How astonishing.

He stopped thinking, but something in the back of his brain restrained him from seizing ruthlessly what nothing but a bolt of magic could keep him from now. When she became easier he felt it, let himself be more urgent, used his hands on her breasts and on the small tender bud pressed against his body by her leaning over him. to make sure he did not leave her behind. That would be a policy disaster, and an affront to his skill, but the back of his brain did not operate at that level.

She was moving now, suddenly as urgent as he. He was more familiar with that in a partner; it was a relief to feel himself on sure ground again. She was making pretty little noises. Lucius himself was usually silent, but he liked appreciation in his lovers. Later he was pleased to recollect that even at the peak of excitement she was soft, and delicate. At the time the little mewing sounds acted on him like a whip, and at the same time seemed to caress his cock directly, as the speed of her movements approached that which he wanted.

Suddenly he felt in her the ripple of sensation he had been alert for. Even as the delicate mew became a soft but undeniable squall, before it mutated into a new, cooing sound, he was carried away by his own pleasure. He too cried out softly as he thrust hard into her for the last time, and then another last time, before he fell back, gasping, slowly getting back breath and equilibrium and consciousness of how completely he had let go.

Before he could worry about that, or become defensively angry, he became aware his fiancée was lying along his body, still cooing, almost inaudibly, slowly now, as if dreamily, cherishing her pleasure. She might not realise how much he had given away; she might never do so.

Lucius relaxed, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, stroking the tender nape he had still not bitten, he remembered. Next time. She was happy, and his.

It might have seemed an anticlimax when he dressed, though not in the Thai silk, which he folded and shrank to store in a pocket, stroking it, content in the knowledge that it pleased her as well as him. Then he needed to help her to finish dressing, checked the effectiveness of the cleansing and smoothing spells she used on her clothing – lichen stained, crumpled, but at least not snagged on the ancient stone. Instead, it seemed to be some sort of closure, and a kind of promise. They would do this again, though probably not on the high altar of Stonehenge.

~~The End, so far~~

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed doing this Lucius, narcissistic in every possible way, but not stupid with it, and this Narcissa, probably equally self-centred, but hey, we never get her point of view to confirm that. I also enjoyed wallowing in his POV and his wardrobe. So I hope you like it too.
> 
> This particular story was inspired by (a) a wish to write fluffy smut for marksykins, and (b) a proposal from mctabby's Which HP Bunny Will Bite You Next? meme, from which I departed very smartly, so there's not a lot of point in quoting it here. Okay, I will, just to squick you: Narcissa/Draco pairing, involving cross-dressing and ending in marriage. Impractical (not the incest; the marriage). So I started thinking about where Draco came from, as it were, while keeping the other elements.
> 
> I had earlier committed to write Lucius/Narcissa for aldalindil's It's All Been Done Fic Fest. The idea was that one should be writing the pairing for the first time. Gulp. Done it now. I decided that this is the first episode in that story, as it fits very nicely with the scenario I also committed myself to write, and I'll complete it later. (See sequel.)
> 
> Right. All obligations met.
> 
> There are now two sequels to this story: [The Family Way](http://archiveofourown.org/works/248987) (2006, the earlier days of the Malfoy marriage and Draco's birth), and [A Challenging Face](http://archiveofourown.org/works/248973) (2005, Narcissa, widowed - or possibly not, enticing Auror Harry Potter for her own purposes). Each can be read on its own.


End file.
